The ground was covered in shimmering starlight.
Almond blossoms swirled down, blanketing everything in what seemed like endless snow.
Jiang Kui looked up at Xie Wuyang in his embrace, smelling the herbal scent on him, the sandalwood fragrance, and the misty dampness. His hug was unbelievably pure, light as a gust of wind, quietly enveloping her.
“Xie Wuyang…”
“Mm.”
“Thank you…”
Before she could finish, she started crying.
Tears silently rolled down her cheeks like a broken strand of pearls, trailing along her beautiful jawline and down.
She cried very softly, head lowered as she stood perfectly straight, not moving an inch, only her shoulders lightly trembling.
He carefully reached out to support her head, letting her lightly lean into his embrace, then slowly closed his eyes.
One by one, glistening teardrops slid from the corners of her eyes, landing on his sleeves with faint “pitter-patters”, shattering into tiny glittering fragments.
His heart crumbled along with those sounds.
The two of them stood under the flower tree for a long time, as the sea of stars rose and fell around them. He only held her lightly, a wordless comfort. She quietly sobbed in his arms as countless emotions washed through her heart, infinitely accepted by him.
After a long while, she finally finished crying.
“Xie Wuyang.”
“Mm.”
“Thank you.”
“It’s nothing.”
After a moment, he loosened his hold and looked down at her. “Are you feeling better?”
“Mm. Much better.”
She kept her head lowered, eyes red, eyelashes still clinging to some tears.
His fingers twitched slightly.
A gust of wind blew past, stirring the water droplets in his hair.
With a “drip”, a droplet landed on her lashes and swiftly trickled down.
She blinked, only now noticing he was drenched, having likely just awoken from a medicinal bath.
“You…” She bit her lip. “Be careful of catching cold.”
She ushered him into a side hall and urged him to change clothes.
Listening to the rustling of robes, she sat hugging her knees behind the screen, thinking of her family with her head lowered.
He changed into fresh clothes, wrapped a white kerchief around his head, and slowly walked out to sit by her side.
He tucked a white handkerchief into her hand but she didn’t wipe her tears, only clenching it tightly into a little ball in her palm. His fingers twitched again, still not daring to touch her, only able to sit with her this way.
In the coiling mist, the two sat shoulder-to-shoulder. He kept an appropriate distance from her, gently sitting angled to face her without speaking or moving, only accompanying her for a long time.
“…beheading in fifteen days.”
She finally spoke, her voice slightly hoarse from crying too much.
It was like an extremely thin knife slicing across his heart.
“There’s still time,” he said softly. “I’ll go see Father Emperor, then go to the Censorate, then the Supreme Court…”
“Stop that,” she wearily shook her head. “Xie Wuyang, that’s your father emperor. You know that. The verdict has already been set, there’s no way to change it.”
“There must be a way,” he stubbornly said.
She raised her head to look at him. His eyes were tranquil, reflecting her fair face like a mirror. When stubborn, he would lightly purse his lips, the line pulled taut and straight, bangs damp with water still dripping onto his cheeks.
“You didn’t even properly dry your hair,” she softly said.
He blanked for a moment, then realized she was only changing the topic that saddened her.
“I…” he started to say, stopping himself.
She suddenly leaned over to snatch the white kerchief on his head and sat before him to dry his hair.
In fact, she was just trying to find something to distract her grieving emotions, but it only made his heart ache more uncontrollably.
Finally, he reached out to grab her wrist, taking both the tightly clenched handkerchief and white kerchief from her hands. She was distraught, exceptionally obedient as she docilely let him guide her by the shoulders to sit properly again.
“You’ve been busy without rest for a whole day and night,” he said softly. “Getting some sleep would be good, wouldn’t it?”
She stubbornly shook her head. But he sat facing her and suddenly leaned towards her, cool fingers lightly caressing her eyelashes. She reflexively closed her eyes and in an instant, a wave of drowsiness crashed over her.
The stubborn girl abruptly went limp, slowly pitching forward to lean on his shoulder.
On an almost instinctive level, he embraced her. Her breathing lightly fluttered past his earlobe, disheveled hair spilling over him, redolent with endless delicate fragrance.
He carefully supported her and gently picked her up in his arms.
In the starlight, her sleeping face was serene, still with traces of tears on that beautiful visage. Her dark tresses made her seem even paler, almost transparent porcelain that could shatter from a touch. It was like his heart was pricked by countless little needles, hurting with every beat.
Cradling the sleeping girl, he trod on scattered flowers as he walked along the long covered corridor and entered the dimly-lit palace chambers.
Starlight sifted down as the gauze canopy fell before the brocade bed.
He bent down to lay her on the bed and covered her with a soft quilt. He took a handkerchief and carefully dabbed the tears from the corners of her eyes, lowering his head to neaten her disheveled hair, then quietly sat by the bed to watch her.
Just like that, he peacefully watched her for the entire night.
Until night slowly faded away and the east grew light.
Jiang Kui dazedly awoke to bright birdsong.
There was a hint of herbal scent and much dampness in her dreams. She blinked.
Occasionally, she could hear the rustling of paper nearby. A wisp of warm, deep sandalwood aroma lingered in her hair.
Someone was by her side, sitting at a desk writing. He lowered his head in concentration for a while before gathering his sleeve to grind some ink and take up his brush. Carefully considering, he eventually began to reply to a long letter.
Without speaking, she watched him for a while. His side profile was straight and tall. His focused, thoughtful frown as he paused now and then while writing was serious. Sometimes he would stop for a long time, lightly propping his chin with the knuckle of his left hand, lips faintly pursed.
This somehow seemed vaguely familiar, but her mind was in chaos and she couldn’t recall a thing.
“Xie Wuyang,” she said. Her voice was still slightly hoarse from crying earlier.
The figure beside her paused and turned to look at her.
“You’re awake?” he said. “It’s still early, why not sleep a while longer?”
She shook her head. Her complexion was pale.
“Then have something to eat,” he said gently.
He got up and brought over a white porcelain plate. It was fancily arranged with delicate pastries and prettily dusted with sugar frosting, giving off a sweet aroma.
“It’s sweet,” he said.
He picked up a tidbit with chopsticks to feed her. She took it between her teeth and slowly swallowed as the frosting melted away.
Raising her head, she softly said, “Bing tanghua cakes. You wouldn’t know how to make them. Did you go to Prince Wen’s manor in the dead of night again?”
“Mm.” He continued feeding her and noticed her frown.
His eyes dimmed for an instant. “No good?”
“It’s fine,” she lightly shook her head. “I just don’t have an appetite with this mood.”
He stopped and gazed at her earnestly. “My lady, don’t worry. I will definitely find a way.”
“I’m writing letters to officials I know. There are people who support me at the Censorate and Supreme Court,” he explained. “I’m also waiting for Ruoheng’s reply. He met with several prominent figures through the night and we’re discussing countermeasures.”
“Later I’ll first go to the Hanlin Academy to meet with some people, then take you to visit the Penglai Palace.”
“Afterwards, go to Princess Chang’s estate.”
He paused for a second. “My lady, please accompany me,” he entreated earnestly.
“Alright.”
She knew he was scrambling to occupy her with things to do, so she wouldn’t dwell on the beheading fifteen days away.
Despite it being midwinter, the morning sun was still warm. The crown prince’s carriage slowly emerged from the Eastern Palace’s main entrance, rumbling over a stretch of scattered white petals down the wide palace way until out of sight.
The last oil lamp in Penglai Palace also extinguished.
Consort Tang leaned against the beauty couch, raising her head from a muddled dream to find herself staring at ochre yellow robes.
The tall man standing with hands folded behind him was gazing up at the calligraphy scroll hanging over the desk. Hearing the stir behind him, he lightly waved a hand without turning. “No need for formalities. Just treat it as always.”
“Shi-lang,” Consort Tang murmured, using the private address from their past. “I thought you wouldn’t come see me.”
“I thought so too,” Revered Wen Emperor said softly, forgoing his esteemed title for the most ordinary form of address.
“Is that so,” she remarked.
“Mm. This is the last time,” he stated.
Still not turning around, he only looked up at the scroll. “This place will be Cold Palace from today forth.”
“It must be execution for them?” Sorrow tinged the woman’s voice behind him.
“You understand me well,” Revered Wen mildly replied. “When it’s time for the blade, it falls. When it’s time to sever ties, they are cut. Some things can only be kept in my grasp.”
He turned to face the magnificently beautiful woman, gaze calm without the slightest ripple.
“Wuyan came to seek an audience but I refused to see him. When he first asked for your niece’s hand, I consented and allowed him that one person’s safety. I also tacitly allowed it when you sent away your little nephew, considering our many years of affection.”
Consort Tang lowered her eyes with a faint smile.
“Shi-lang.”
Her voice was composed.
“In this life as a piece in the game, and also as a player, I have only made two missteps. One was originally agreeing to marry you. Two was suddenly wanting to be a mother.”
The departing man’s steps seemed to falter for an instant.
“Is that so,” he murmured. “Yet I did not know.”
An autumn wind gusted in through the window, stirring the curtains with a susurrant rustle. Consort Tang raised her head in the wind but the man had already left, just as he said – their last meeting.
“Esteemed Consort,” Palace Attendant Ji Ying performed an obeisance behind the curtain, “the Crown Prince and Princess Consort request an audience.”
Consort Tang was startled for a moment before lowering her eyes with a faint smile, “Please, come in.”
The two young people entered from outside the hall, trailing fallen blossoms and autumn sunlight.
Xie Wuyang looked rather tired. Jiang Kui gently supported him as they both sat before a small pear wood table. She took a thick blanket and draped it over his knees. He murmured a quiet thanks, holding a small silver warming stove.
The three in the hall discussed the matter of the general’s estate at length, all with extremely solemn expressions.
“His Majesty has already decided. If you keep trying to negotiate, it may only strain father and son relations,” Consort Tang sighed softly. “I’m afraid there is no room left to maneuver on this.”
“There is still one person with enough influence to sway Father Emperor’s decision,” Xie Wuyang said quietly.
“I know who you speak of,” Consort Tang shook her head. “She has no intention to lend a hand.”
“There must be a way,” Xie Wuyang said softly.
He turned to look at his lady wife, extremely earnest. “I promise you.”
Consort Tang was slightly moved in that moment.
She lowered her head in thought for a while before suddenly getting up to dismiss all the palace attendants and shut every window.
The hall instantly dimmed. She lit a lamp and silently sat before them, gazing at the flickering flame.
She murmured, “I’ve kept a secret in my heart for a very long time.”
Silence descended on the semi-dark hall as the swaying candlelight rippled through the empty space, casting countless intricate shadows.
Consort Tang stared fixedly at the lamp in her hands before slowly speaking, “Over these years… someone has been slipping poison into His Majesty’s food and drink.”
The two before her gave a slight jolt of shock.
Jiang Kui raised her head, “…Who is it?”
“Unknown,” Consort Tang said heavily. “Even His Majesty doesn’t know.”
“…But His Majesty knows someone is poisoning him?”
“He knows someone is poisoning him, but cannot find out who,” Consort Tang sighed lightly. “All these years… he can’t even eat well… He must be very afraid, like a ghost is haunting the massive palace.”
“No wonder,” Xie Wuyang murmured. “Over the years Father Emperor has become less and less willing to trust others.”
A thought abruptly occurred to Jiang Kui. “The Eastern Palace’s pharmacy was also targeted. Could it be the same perpetrator?”
“Impossible to determine,” Consort Tang shook her head.
Xie Wuyang lowered his eyes in contemplation. “Many have tried to poison me over the years. I never paid it any mind. Only one slow-acting poison appeared during the autumn banquet three years ago and has recently reappeared in the Eastern Palace. My lady wife helped me discover it.”
“I’ve always wanted to investigate the source of this drug…”
“Because,” he said very softly, “it relates to my mother’s passing.”
His wife suddenly realized the implication behind his words. “Xie Wuyang… is your illness unrelated to that poison?”
He gave a small start, not expecting her to pick up on that.
“Unrelated,” he answered gently.
She wanted to question further but he didn’t seem inclined to elaborate.
Consort Tang continued speaking. “If the poisoner in His Majesty’s food can be found, it may resolve a weight on his mind. Since the Eastern Palace pharmacy was targeted, perhaps that lead can be followed.”
Pausing, she sighed softly. “This is the last I can do to help you.”
In the dim hall, the three discussed for a while longer before Jiang Kui and Xie Wuyang prepared to leave Penglai Palace and head out to visit Princess Chang.
Consort Tang lifted an oil lamp to see them off. She held Xie Wuyang back a step and said to Jiang Kui, “Xiaoman, go on ahead. I have a few words for your husband.”
Then under the palace eaves, the noble consort solemnly folded her billowing sleeves and deeply bowed to the young crown prince.
Xie Wuyang hurriedly moved to help her up but Consort Tang shook her head.
“This bow is to thank you and also plead of you… I leave my little Xiaoman in your care. Please take good care of her,” she entreated earnestly.
“I will,” Xie Wuyang nodded gravely.
Consort Tang smiled. “You really don’t resemble your father at all.”
After a pause, she added softly. “Probably more like your mother.”
Xie Wuyang blanked for a second before quietly lowering his eyes. “…I never saw her when she was alive.”
“Neither did I. I wasn’t married back then,” Consort Tang mused. “She must have been a peerless beauty?”
She was taken aback. The youth before her gave a faint smile, concealing a ripple of emotion in his eyes.
Princess Chang resided northeast of Chang’an in an estate of grand scale and majesty.
Before the imposing vermillion lacquered gates stood a carriage decorated in gold and jade. The crown prince in crimson ceremonial robes stepped down to help his consort alight.
Following a few attendants, the couple entered and awaited in the front hall.
Two servants came forward, each presenting them with a cup of clear tea. Xie Wuyang lifted the porcelain cover to take a light sip. Jiang Kui watched his actions from the side, somehow losing herself in distraction.
“Your Highness, Esteemed Consort,” an estate steward rushed over hastily.
He performed an obeisance. “Princess Chang sends word that she has been unwell and keeps to her rooms in seclusion, unable to receive guests. Please come another day.”
Xie Wuyang returned the propriety. “I humbly ask Manager to relay that the imperial nephew Kang seeks an audience with the imperial aunt.”
The steward withdrew to convey the message while only the rustling of bamboo could be heard from outside. The estate was surrounded by over a hundred bamboo plants, sitting within like a recluse amidst secluded bamboo, extremely tasteful and tranquil enough to settle one’s heart.
The two in the hall drank tea again as they silently awaited the steward’s swift return. “Your Highness, the Princess truly feels unwell and cannot receive visitors.”
Xie Wuyang performed the courtesies once more. “I humbly ask Manager to relay one more time: please say the imperial nephew Kang brings the child of an old friend to seek an audience.”
Jiang Kui bowed as well. The “old friend’s child” referred to her. Her mother and Princess Chang were once bosom friends in their youth behind curtains, becoming a famed romantic tale of Chang’an.
Bamboo rustled loudly outside. The crisp clinks of porcelain lids on ceramic cups were clearly audible. Seated by Xie Wuyang’s side, Jiang Kui gazed at him calmly drinking his tea and leaned in to softly ask, “Will that make her willing to grant an audience?”
“I don’t know,” he replied gently. “But no matter if she’s willing to see me or not, I must see her.”
For the third time, the steward swiftly emerged to present a letter with both hands, reverently announcing, “The Princess sends her regrets at being unable to meet guests. Her response is enclosed in this letter.”
Xie Wuyang accepted the letter and spread it open before them on the table. Together, they lowered their heads to look.
The letter contained no writing, only a lightly inked painting of lakes and mountains, ancient temples, monks in their robes – a few sparse strokes as if casually brushed on.
Xie Wuyang studied it closely before asking, “May I trouble Manager to fetch writing materials?”
The steward blinked in surprise but obeyed, bringing pen and ink. Xie Wuyang neatly gathered his sleeve to grind some ink and add a few lines to the painting.
Jiang Kui looked over. Beside the monk, he had lightly sketched in the silhouette of a woman, delicate and tranquil yet with an imposing aura.
Having finished, Xie Wuyang handed the letter back to the waiting steward. “Please trouble Manager to deliver this.”
The steward took his leave for the third time.
Jiang Kui turned to Xie Wuyang, hesitating briefly before asking quietly, “Was that… my mother you drew?”
“I guessed,” he said softly. “I heard they were once very good friends.”
For a long time, only the bamboo leaves continued rustling. Xie Wuyang sat drinking his tea while Jiang Kui counted the minutes trickling by at his side. The sun shifted from directly overhead to fall amidst the swaying bamboo shadows, dappling everything with patches of disconnected light.
Finally, the steward swiftly returned and performed a full obeisance. “Your Highness, Esteemed Consort, the Princess will see you.”
Xie Wuyang slowly rose to his feet. Jiang Kui supported him as they headed deeper into the estate. Princess Chang had already been quietly waiting in the hall, hair pinned in a dignified style and head glittering with golden hairpins and pearl hairpins that swayed lightly in the breeze.
Looking up at the approaching couple, she gave a faint smile. “No need for formalities, please sit.”
As Jiang Kui took her seat, Princess Chang turned to look at her in profile and suddenly sighed softly, “You truly resemble her… especially your eyes.”
“Dear Aunt,” Xie Wuyang performed an obeisance before her from across the table. “The general’s estate is in peril. I beg you to assist.”
Princess Chang only lowered her eyes without answering. After some time she murmured, “This is a matter I have already refused.”
“Kang humbly begs you to reconsider,” Xie Wuyang entreated again with another bow.
Princess Chang gazed at him for a long period before suddenly asking in a low tone, “If you want to beg a favor, what can you offer in exchange?”
Xie Wuyang held her stare. “What my imperial aunt once desired can now be granted.”
Amidst the sounds of rustling bamboo, the aunt and nephew looked upon each other in continued silence, neither side moving.
At last Princess Chang gave a soft laugh and looked away, sighing softly, “Wuyang, you truly are an unambitious child… How did you ever grow up in the imperial palace?”
Not waiting for his response, she shook her head with another sigh. “If this were a few years ago, what you offer may have tempted me… But I have truly grown old now.”
“I invited you today only wishing to see an old friend’s child. Now that we’ve met, you may take your leave.”
“Dear Aunt…” Xie Wuyang entreated softly.
“Go on,” Princess Chang closed her eyes with a weary sigh. “I’m tired now.”
The bamboo leaves around the outer halls swayed and rustled, contrasting sharply with the desolation and silence within.
After returning to the carriage waiting outside, Xie Wuyang gradually grew weak. He leaned back against the cabin wall, head tilted back slightly as he caught his breath in fatigue, eyes closed.
After a while, he opened his eyes, about to speak when the young girl beside him suddenly sealed his lips with her own.
“Don’t blame yourself,” she muttered fiercely after pulling back. “Xie Wuyang, what were you going to promise the Princess?”
“Power,” he murmured. “I’ve heard that a decade ago during the struggle for heir apparent… my imperial aunt originally wanted to contend for it.”
“Many died that year… Of previous emperor’s sons, only three remained. Like Ruoheng who fled far south to Jiangnan and narrowly escaped. He later told me that as eldest daughter, the imperial aunt had three thousand imperial guards and the general’s estate’s support. She could have taken a gamble.”
“Yet in the end she chose to back my father emperor,” he recounted. “All these years, she must have borne some resentment in her heart.”
These were profoundly classified old affairs. They kept their voices extremely low, nearly whispering cheek-to-cheek and listening to each other’s breathing.
Xie Wuyang was very close to Jiang Kui, his robes redolent with a heavy sandalwood scent that was strangely oppressive in such proximity… She suddenly found the fragrance too overwhelming.
“Xie Wuyang, get some rest,” she murmured. “When’s the last time you slept?”
“I’m fine,” he lightly shook his head. “We should go to the Supreme Court…”
Before he could finish speaking, the young girl beside him abruptly struck out her hand in a knife-chop, directly knocking him out cold.
“Go the hell to sleep,” she grumbled under her breath.
He heavily collapsed onto her and she reached out to support him, letting his head rest on her shoulder. Asleep, he was exceptionally peaceful, long lashes still and breathing steady, lightly gusting by her ear…
“Return to Eastern Palace,” she ordered loudly outside.
Then she turned to look at his profile beside her.
“…Pushing yourself too hard,” she whispered.
The general’s estate glittered with lamps and lanterns.
It had been surrounded for some time. By imperial decree that night, the Golden Guard set out to arrest everyone inside and transport them to the Supreme Court prison to await sentencing and execution.
Amidst branches of a tall Chinese scholartree, there was the faintest rustle of leaves.
Carrying a bundle of white hemp cloth, a young girl perched hidden amongst the foliage, using the broad trunk to conceal herself as she peered down at the hubbub below.
After much hesitation, Jiang Kui still came here in the end.
Her family was inside. She brought her spear and waited in the tree, wanting to save her family.
Too many from the Golden Guard. She could only save one. Biting her lip, she contemplated for some time before finally deciding and flipping down from the tree.
She tore off the white hemp cloth wrapped around her spear and took a deep breath, toes barely touching the ground as she prepared to spring into action.
Suddenly, a pair of hands appeared from behind to muffle her mouth and tightly pull her back against a firm chest, heavily pinned between their arms with her shoulders abruptly immobilized.
She gave a stifled grunt of struggle and a crisp scent of white plum blossoms cut into her breath. That person’s voice murmured by her ear, almost like a passing breeze…
“My little Jiang.”
“Zhu Zi’an!” Her voice was muffled in his palm. “What are you doing?!”
“Don’t struggle,” he uttered softly. “Trust me.”
She fought him for a bit before he firmly steered her back deeper into the alley.
“Don’t move,” he repeated.
She finally stopped resisting and slowly went limp in his embrace.
Supporting her by the shoulders, he turned her to face him and raised his head, gazing earnestly into her eyes.
“Listen to me.”
He looked closely into her eyes.
“Let’s storm the execution grounds.”
Leave a Reply